349 In an English place called Hallow

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The Colour. The Form

When we take to Nature in our path, passion inspires the action to explore the bewitching power of tree and field. In one day, such ramblings through fields, by canals, rivers, woods or hills, is a powerful tonic to strengthen our physical, mental, social, emotional and social wellbeing.

As we meet Nature on its terms, it is its evolution, adaptability, survival and transformation to which we become more sensitised towards each week.

Today we are in Hallow. Its form is rich and vibrant in Autumnal pigments, but the weather hangs. Summertime is now past as its last hour went back today  and now within the sheer indifference of a grey sky, the dampness of Autumn clings like the mistletoe on Hallow’s famous popular trees. Fine films of cold moisture glaze grass, bark and leaf,  bare clods of clay stick awkwardly underfoot.

As the grass of Hallow stills, true Autumn comes to pass. In the absence of motion, there is spellbinding complexity at work.  Within simplicity of hush, silent conservation over quiet conversation, is the season’s dutiful role. Nature’s AEM,  Annual Energy Meeting of leafy yellows, reds and browns,  now gather to report on the ground before sinking below it for their next life.

Sleepy Hallow. The magic begins and we become enchanted.

Hallow = Holy

Bransford Bridge, near the small village of Hallow, SW Worcestershire, England

 

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© 2016 La Floralie 2

335 Time to reflect mutual needs

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Summer edges the Autumn in and the two landscapes of ground and sky meet. With curious lumps and bumps on both sides, it almost seems a bit of a crash landing of the seasons.

Many uneven tapestries of tiny florals beckon the swirling grey mass to release its swollen droplets. In the solid mass of bracken, the heathery harshness must work hard to charm the movement of colourless. flowing grey, gaseous clouds to rain.

Where is the mirroring of needs.  In what appears to be polar opposites, there is great compatibility. Light and water fall only to be sent back up to the Heavens, but one wonders as one waits:  Does Land and Sky communicate to each other in  “What say thou? ” only to be told “No, no what say thou?

Stiperstones, Shropshire, August 2016

 

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© 2016 La Floralie 2